


Sawstuck: Let's Play A Game

by SeahorseTrash



Category: Homestuck, Saw (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Gore, Horror, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeahorseTrash/pseuds/SeahorseTrash
Summary: Your name is Dirk Strider, and you have been captured by a psycho that no doubt has malicious intent. He claims he wants to play a game, and the rules are simple: survive.Will you be able to do what it takes?--Saw/Homestuck crossover written for HalloweenIllustrations included* (right click to access in separate tab)*Unfortunately, the images do not open on mobile devices (for me, at least) so you can see the photos with this link: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/qu9gdjplmway11l/AAAQQIbVSs1xptFumBmrrGGta?dl=0





	

**Author's Note:**

> If the links do not work, I have labeled each section, so you should be able to scroll and find it.

You wake up in a pitch black room. All you taste is blood and metal, a cold steel plate wedged between your aching jaws. You don't know where you are, and can't seem to recall how you got here.

You try to stand, only to find that your hands and feet are bound by rusted metal chains. You try to open your mouth, but it's stuck in place. You make an attempt to yell for help, but your voice fails to travel beyond the thick walls of the room. You are completely alone.

The blinding light of a vintage television set flashes in front of you. Staring at the distorted screen in fear, you hear the soft click of a cassette tape, and the static flickers to life. The gritty image focuses on the dark profiled features of an old ventriloquist dummy.

Its complexion is a sickly green, candy red spirals etched into its carved cheeks. Its sunken eyes are dead and black, and its blood red mouth is sculpted into a sinister grin, a single jagged tooth protruding from its hideous maw.

The doll turns its head to face you, its beady eyes staring into the camera lens.

“Hello, Dirk,” it says, its raspy voice sending a chill down your spine. “You don't know me, but I know you. I want to play a game. Here's what happens if you lose.”

The screen pans to show a replica of what you assume to be the mechanism on your head. It's a maze of rusty gears and bolts, secured around the head by a thick metal band.

“The device you are wearing is hooked into your upper and lower jaws. When the timer at the back goes off, your mouth will be permanently ripped open. Think of it like a reverse bear trap. Here, I'll show you.”

You stare in horror as the footage zooms in on the mannequin. The timer slowly ticks away, each agonizing second making you flinch. After thirty seconds, the trap opens with a clank, tearing the head to pieces. You want to turn away, but your eyes are fixated on the terrifying scene.

“There is only one key to open the device. It's in the stomach of your dead cellmate. Look around, Dirk; know that I am not lying. Better hurry up. Live or die; make your choice.”

The television shuts off with a harsh ringing and loud static, the cassette popping out of the player. The dim bulb above your head flickers to life, it's eerie glow revealing the grimy walls of a concrete basement.

Snapping out of your initial state of shock, you thrash around in the chair, desperately trying to break away and escape. Minutes feel like hours as you struggle against the bindings, the metal chains digging into your wrists and ankles.

It's useless. You'll never free yourself. You begin to accept your fate. In one last attempt, you manage to strike a weak spot and the rust snaps under the pressure. As you leap up from the chair and stumble forward, you hear a click and faint ticking behind you. There's no telling how much time you have to survive.

You try to pry the device off your head, but it won't budge. The rough steel edges cut deeper into the sides of your mouth. You feel blood trickle down your throat.

You're beginning to lose hope, as if you ever had any in the first place. You're convinced that you'll die here. You wonder if your friends will even recognize your mutilated corpse, assuming your body is ever found.

You fall to your knees in frustration. As you scan the dim room for anything that could be useful, you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eyes.

You remember what the tape said about the location of the key.

You were given a choice: live with guilt in your heart and blood on your hands, or die a coward and a failure. You have to live, no matter what it takes. You have to survive this hell and stop it from happening to anyone else.

You turn to get a closer look at the body sprawled out on the floor, a thin sheet covering their midsection. They lay still and pale with their eyes closed. Dead, you presume. You crawl over and kneel at their side.

Your heart drops in your chest.

You know that face. You've known that face since you were a dumb lovestruck teenager. Even covered in sweat and grime, you still recognize it.

It's Jake.

You can't do this—not to Jake. You would never forgive yourself.

But it's your only chance at survival.

You think of all the others you'd leave behind if you died here. You remember promising Roxy that you would visit her after work, but you don't know how long it's been since you made that promise. You could’ve been gone for days—weeks. Maybe she's already looking for you.

What will you do?

**Search for the key. You don't want to die.**

**You can't bear the thought of Jake’s blood on your hands. Spend your last moments by his side.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Spend your last moments by his side.**

You crawl over to lie down next to him, watching his sleeping face. He looks so peaceful, so oblivious to the horrors around him. You remind yourself that he’s dead, but you don’t want to believe it. You swear you can hear his slow and steady breaths.

You wish you could properly say goodbye. To everyone. Not just Jake. How will Roxy know where you are? How will she and Jane feel when they find out you're both dead?

You hear him stir, his breathing patterns changing. You hold your breath as his eyes flutter open. Could it be? Is he really alive?

“Dirk?” he mumbles, his words slurred from sedatives. Behind his broken glasses, his eyes are hazy and bloodshot. He notices to contraption on your head and hears the faint ticking. He seems to understand. He can see the desperation and fear in your eyes.

You watch a tear roll down Jake’s cheek as the timer runs down. You wipe it away and grab ahold of his hands, squeezing tight. His fingers interlock with yours in a weak, drowsy grip. 

5

4

3

2

1

Game over.

**Reset?**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Search for the key.**

_I’m so sorry,_ you think as you lift up the cloth to expose Jake’s abdomen. A hideous black question mark is painted onto his skin, and a rusted knife sits on the ground at his side. With your precious time ticking away, you pick up the blade with trembling hands and lower the edge to Jake’s stomach.

You look up one last time to see his eyes flutter open. He stares at you, dazed and confused. His eyes widen in fright as he notices the knife in your hand. He can't scream. He can't even move. He can only watch in terror as you take a deep breath and bring the blade to his skin.

You make a careful incision by his waist and puncture his stomach. Blood and gastric acid flood the wound, filling the air with a sour odor. You feel your own stomach churning. Jake faints at the sight of his own blood. He doesn't seem to feel anything and you frantically search for the key amongst bloody misplaced organs.

There isn't much you can do to hold back tears as you force yourself to selfishly murder your best friend. You can only imagine the nightmares you'll face if you survive.

With only thirty seconds to spare, you spot the shiny silver key. You feel for the lock at the back, your hands shaking. The ticking in your ears seems louder somehow, only drowned out by your panicked breaths. You find the keyhole and turn the lock, feeling the mechanism loosen around your mouth. You pry it out of your mouth and throw it to the ground as it snaps open with a clank. The horrible noise bounces off the walls, ringing in your ears.

You bring your hands to your face, warm blood pouring from the fresh cuts in your cheeks. You spit out a red tooth as you hack up the overflow. Collapsing next to Jake, you let tears stream down your face, washing away the dirt and sweat. You can't tell if he's breathing, or if his heart if even beating. You listen for a pulse, but can't seem to distinguish his from your own heart pounding in your chest.

“Jake,” you whisper, cupping his face. Your voice is hoarse and broken. “I'm sorry.” You curse yourself for not finding a way to save him. If it meant Jake could live, you would do anything.

A hidden door opens to a long hallway, a blinding light casting a grim shadow on the scene.

What now?

**Take Jake with you. Maybe there's still hope!**

**Leave him. He’ll only weigh you down.** **  
**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Take him with you.**

You use Jake’s shirt to momentarily stop the bleeding. It's worse than you had first thought. You know that there's a chance he won't make it, but you do the best you can to wrap him up in the cloth he'd been covered with when you found him.

Stashing the bloody knife in your back pocket, you gently pick him up, cradling him in your arms. Pure exhaustion causes you to buckle under his weight as you hobble towards the door.

“We’re gonna make it out of here, Jake,” you tell him, though you know he probably can't hear you. “I promise.”

Continue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Leave him.**

You decide that there is nothing more you can do to help him.

You cover the gore with the cloth and sit by his side for a moment. His face is covered in dirt and blood. You wipe it away with the end of your shirt and comb your fingers through his hair.

It's time to go.

**Put him out of his misery.**

**Let nature take its course. **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Put him out of his misery.**

“I'll miss you,” you whisper, bringing the knife to his neck. You avert your eyes as you slit his throat.

When you make it out of here, you're going to make sure that whoever is responsible for putting you through this hell gets what they deserve.

Continue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Let nature take its course.**

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m gonna make it out of here, and when I do, I'll make sure whoever put us through this hell gets what they deserve. I promise.”

Continue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You make your way down the long corridor, praying it leads to an exit. Each step is burdened by the weight of your guilt. You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

You're met with another dimly lit room. A single flickering bulb hangs from the ceiling. There is a foul stench that you can't quite place. Like rancid meat blended with the musty smell of an unfinished basement.

“Congratulations, Dirk,” a voice sneers from an intercom. “I see you've managed to escape relatively unscathed, but I cannot say the same for your friend.” A wave of dread washes over you.

You look down at Jake. Your arms are getting tired from carrying him all this way. You know he’s dead—he wasn’t breathing and he’d grown cold—but you couldn’t say goodbye. You wanted to believe that there was a way to save him, when in reality, there was no way he could wake up from this.

“You may have survived your game, but can you really say you’ve won?”

A door opens in front of you, outside light shining through. He's letting you go.

"Cherish your life, Dirk," he says as you stand in shock. "You never know when it may be at risk."

**End of Route One.Play again?**

 

 

 

 

 

You make your way down the long corridor, playing it leads to an exit. Each step is burdened by the weight of your guilt. You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

You're met with another dimly lit room. A single bulb hangs from the ceiling. There is a foul stench that you can't quite place. Like rotting meat blended with the musty smell of an unfinished basement.

“Congratulations, Dirk,” a voice sneers from an intercom. “I see you've managed to escape relatively unscathed, but I cannot say the same for your friend.” A wave of guilt washes over you. “When faced with this challenge, you survived only because you were selfish. You murdered your friend in a fit of desperations, proving that in the end, you only care about your own safety. You would leave others behind if it meant you could live. You could get over the guilt if it meant you could live.”

You begin to reconsider your choices. This guy’s just trying to get inside your head, right? There was no way you could’ve saved yourself and Jake.

Maybe if you had just saved Jake…

No. You did the right thing. Jake would’ve been traumatized if he had to watch you die, helpless and alone. Your kidnapper was right; you could easily block out the memories of what happened today, but Jake would never forget.

You hope that wherever he is now—perhaps watching you right now—he’s happier than he would’ve been if you had died.

A door opens in front of you, outside light shining through. He's letting you go.

"Cherish this life that you stole," he says as you stand in shock. "You never know when it may be at risk."

**End of Route Two.Play again?**

 

 

 

You make your way down the long corridor, playing it leads to an exit. Each step is burdened by the weight of your guilt. You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

You're met with another dimly lit room. A single bulb hangs from the ceiling. There is a foul stench that you can't quite place. Like rotting meat blended with the musty smell of an unfinished basement.

“Congratulations, Dirk,” a voice sneers from an intercom. “I see you've managed to escape relatively unscathed, but I cannot say the same for your friend.” A wave of guilt washes over you. “When faced with this challenge, you survived only because you were selfish. You murdered your friend in a fit of desperations, proving that in the end, you only care about your own safety. You would leave others behind if it meant you could live. You could get over the guilt if it meant you could live.”

You begin to reconsider your choices. This guy’s just trying to get inside your head, right? There was no way you could’ve saved yourself and Jake.

Maybe if you had just saved Jake…

No. You did the right thing. Jake would’ve been traumatized if he had to watch you die, helpless and alone. Your kidnapper was right; you could easily block out the memories of what happened today, but Jake would never forget.

You hope that wherever he is now—perhaps watching you right now—he’s happier than he would’ve been if you had died.

“I will release you,” he says, “but I would like for you to know that the body you left behind will be my new test subject. I will revive him and use him in a series of experiments, testiing the limits of mental and physical strength. You have escaped for now, but cherish your life while you can, for you never know when another game will begin. Perhaps _you_ will be the one left behind in the sequel.”

A door opens in front of you, outside light shining through. He's letting you go.

“Until next time.”

**End of Route Three.Play again?**


End file.
